When Worlds Collide
by dracoredeemed
Summary: Draco is really tired of working with Harry and so decides to do something about it. Now a chapter fic. H/D slash. Mature Content in later chapters! Be warned.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** When Worlds Collide

**Fandom:** HP

**Rating:** PG

**Pairing:** Harry/Draco

**Chapter:** 1/1

**WARNINGS:** Major fluff alert (possibly to the point of gagging)

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter and characters are owned by J.K. Rowling, Warner Brothers, Scholastic, and associated entities. No profit is being made from this work of fiction and no copyright infringement is intended.

**Author's notes:** This is a valentine's fic for harrys_boxers. Her words were: sultry, champagne, hearts, lace, unloved

***

Draco opened the door to his office with a sigh. It was barely eight a.m. and already he could feel the beginnings of a mammoth headache.

He'd awoken that morning to the loud banging of construction work being carried out on the flat next door. It had been going on for weeks and didn't seem to be getting any closer to completion. Why they needed two more bathrooms and a spa, he had no idea – well, tacky is as tacky does, he supposed.

Then he'd discovered that the milk was off, so he couldn't even enjoy his morning cup of Earl Grey. He'd ended up taking it with lemon, but the aftertaste had made him gag. Really, was it too much to ask that milk last until its use by date? He'd wished he'd known more household spells – surely there was a spell to de-off milk? But he didn't, so he'd thrown the tea down the sink and headed for the shower.

There'd been no hot water, for some reason, so he'd shivered like a leaf for a full three minutes, which was all he could stand before getting out. Which meant his hair hadn't been washed and was slightly limp as a result. And the warmth of his new cashmere jumper didn't quite dispel the chill of the shower, so he'd pulled out his winter coat, only to discover a tear in the side-seam. Then, as if all that hadn't been enough to put him in a bad mood, he'd proceeded to Apparate into the wrong floor at the Ministry – he blamed his plummeting body temperature for the temporary miscalculation – and had had to put up with the secretary there giving him a dressing down. Most annoying.

When he'd finally made it to his floor, the lift door had opened and he'd nearly run head-long into Potter, who'd had the audacity to apologise before turning back to snog his stupid wife goodbye. Bloody Potter and his perfect life. He shuddered when the ginger bint let Harry go with a sultry look, before pushing past Draco to take the lift, presumably to her own floor, wherever that was. Draco nearly stuck his foot out as she walked by, but stopped himself just in time. He could do without Kingsley on his back as well.

But the cherry on top of this crappy, dreary day had been the tight – oh, so very tight – blue jeans that had been gracing Potter's perfect arse that morning. The pert, rounded orbs were encased so entrancingly within the soft, faded fabric. As he stood at his office door, Draco thought of the way the denim stretched across Potter's thighs like a glove, and groaned. Why did Potter have to look so damned fuckable – so absolutely, adorably shag-worthy – today of all days? As if he didn't have enough to worry about, what with his head about to explode and all. Life was so unfair! And the fact that that perfectly shaggable arse had been attached to the body whose tongue was thrust inside the Weaslette's mouth did nothing to improve his mood. At all.

Draco flicked his wand to dismantle the wards and the door to his office creaked open. He pushed it aside to drop his bag onto the floor by his desk. When he leaned back into his chair it creaked ominously and he closed his eyes and tried to think pleasant thoughts. But the only images forthcoming morphed into tanned biceps and deep green eyes.

God, his life sucked. It was official, as of blue-denim-arse o'clock. Everything that could go wrong had, and now he was gagging over the Boy Who Lived. The very married, very straight Boy Who Lived, who also happened to occupy the office across the hall from Draco's, and whose pert arse he'd been forced to watch come and go every single day for the past six years without being able to touch. It was almost more than he could bear. More than _anyone_ should have to bear, really. And it didn't help that Potter and the Ginger One had been blissfully married for almost fifteen years and they still kissed as if they were teenagers. God, he could just imagine all the hearts and lace and champagne dinners. He gagged. It was enough to make him move to Siberia.

Especially since he couldn't even remember the last time someone had kissed ihim/i like that. In fact, it had been months since he'd even been on a date. He felt old and used up. Completely unloved. Like he was the world's worst joke – with limp hair and a burgeoning migraine.

And a boner the size of a hippogriff.

Even _thinking_ about Potter's arse gave him a hard-on. If life could get any worse than this, he'd like to know how, because as far as lives go, Draco's was pretty much doomed to placid obscurity and complete and utter sexless, loveless boredom. Even his house-elf got more action.

His moment of self-pity was interrupted at that moment by the appearance of 'The Arse', which stopped to taunt him through his open door while its owner fiddled with the doorknob to his own office, before moving seductively to sit at Potter's desk. Draco wished for the thousandth time that their desks did not face each other, that the walls of their offices were not made of glass, and that Potter would throw away that disgusting wedding portrait that sat facing him, it's blissful occupants gazing deeply into each others' eyes before leaning in to kiss long and slow. Not that he could see the photograph from his vantage point at his own desk, but Draco knew it well enough, having spent many hours in meetings with Potter under the sickening gaze of the happy couple. Really, there were some things that no one should have to put up with.

He sighed and rubbed his forehead. The migraine was turning into a full-blown aneurysm. He was momentarily cheered by the thought of his head exploding. If he was dead, at least he wouldn't have to look at Potter all day, every day, and that was something. But as luck would have it, his brain decided to betray him and inot/i explode that day, and he was forced to watch Potter rise from his desk and make his way to Draco's office. Like he did every morning.

Potter smiled at Draco, the skin around his eyes creasing into tiny wrinkles in a way that made him look completely adorable. Potter's hair was cut short and stood on end in that artful, messy-on-purpose style that was so popular, but looked especially gorgeous on him.

"Morning, sunshine," he greeted Draco enthusiastically.

Draco couldn't help but smile back, in spite of the gaping hole in the floor that threatened to engulf him. The way Harry smiled was contagious. And that was another thing – when had Potter become 'Harry' in Draco's mind? Was he a complete masochist?

"Hey, I'm just going up to the tea room. Can I get you something?" Potter was always doing nice stuff like that.

"Thanks, tea'd be great." Draco's stomach dropped somewhere below middle earth when Harry grinned and stuck his hands in his pockets.

"You got any of those chocolate biscuits in your desk?" he asked with a sheepish look, and Draco thought that even if he hadn't got a packet hidden in his bottom drawer – he did, in fact, knowing they were Harry's favourite – he would probably have sprinted to Muggle London and back just to get them.

"I might. What's it worth to you?" Draco smirked and tried to look cool.

Harry's eyebrows shot up. "Tea's not enough? Hmm… I suppose I could help you write that report for Kingsley. Isn't it due later today? How are you going with it, by the way?" Now his eyebrows were knitted in concern.

"Actually, it's finished." Draco felt his face soften as Harry continued to look at him worriedly. "And I'm just kidding. Tea would be lovely, and more than enough."

"Excellent. I'll be right back."

Harry disappeared down the hall and Draco leaned over to retrieve the biscuits from the drawer of his desk. They were a special imported Muggle brand called Tim Tams and were only carried by one store in the whole of the UK, at least as far as Draco knew. They were expensive, but they melted on your tongue and were particularly good with piping hot tea. Especially when the tea was being sipped by one beaming Harry Potter, who liked to sit in the chair across from Draco's desk and chat for a few minutes over their morning cuppa.

Draco glanced over the _Daily Prophet_ while he waited for Harry to return, though there wasn't much in the way of news. He dropped the paper onto the desk when an inter-office memo floated through the door. It was the latest job postings. Draco liked working in the Auror department, but sometimes he wondered if he shouldn't move away – get out of this circle of longing and disappointment he seemed to have trapped himself into as Potter's partner.

He'd often thought about getting back into potions – he was good at it and it catered to his creative side – so he scanned the circular to see what was available. To his astonishment, there was a secondment opening up in the Forensic Potions Unit of the Ministry, a section that hadn't had any openings in years. He wondered if he should apply, then realised that if he got the job he'd have to move to a different floor, and then he'd never get to see Harry. Well, but that was the point, surely…. At least he would be spared this daily torture. He sighed again and let his head drop to his desk.

"Hey, you okay?"

Draco looked up when Harry entered the room and placed his tea in front of him. "Yeah, just tired. I haven't been sleeping very well."

"Me neither," Harry replied. "Ginny and I have been having problems," he elaborated with a shrug.

Draco frowned. "You looked pretty happy this morning."

"We'd just had this huge fight. That was part of the making-up." Harry stared down at his tea for a moment before continuing. "Ginny wants more kids. I think three is enough, though. She's pretty pissed off at me." He shrugged again and took a sip of his tea. Now that Draco was paying attention, he could see frown lines starting to etch across Potter's forehead. He was almost certain they were new.

"Three kids must be a handful," was all he could think of to say. He really wanted to just take Harry in his arms and comfort him, but of course he refrained. "Not that I'd have any idea," he added.

Harry gave him a sympathetic smile. "Are you seeing anyone? What happened to that bloke from Flourish and Blotts?"

"Oh, God, Barry? That was over ages ago. He was totally passive-aggressive. Nearly drove me nuts." Draco rolled his eyes as he remembered how Barry would ignore him when he didn't like something, rather than just admit it – he absolutely refused to enter into a discussion about anything that bothered him. He'd nearly driven Draco to distraction. "Anyway, we only went out for three months. And that was three months too long."

"So, who is it now?"

Draco shrugged and lifted his cup to his lips so Harry couldn't see his slight blush. "No one special." He sighed as he put his cup back on its saucer. "I think I'll just give up, actually. There are _no_ decent gay men out there, believe me."

"What about Muggles?" Harry smirked when Draco gave him a look. "Okay, then… have you even been out recently?"

"Not since Christmas. That evening out with Pansy was enough to turn me off for life," he quipped.

Harry smiled and nodded in silent agreement. "Well, I'd better go do something." He drained his cup and stood to go. "Thanks for the biscuits." He took another from the packet on the desk and raised his hand in salute. "To Tim Tams!"

Draco grinned and took a bite of his own biscuit. He watched as Potter walked back across the hall to his office, then sank back against his chair. He was pretty sure he couldn't bear much more of this – this desire… this longing – whatever you want to call it. It was eating him up from the inside out to the point where he was sure that, if something didn't change, he'd be nothing but an empty shell by Easter. He picked up the jobs memo again and reread the ad for the potions position. Maybe moving departments was just what he needed. He was going to go crazy if he stayed where he was. Of that he was certain.

***

"Hey, want to come out for a drink?"

Draco looked up sharply when he heard Potter's voice. Potter never asked him out for drinks. They barely socialised outside of the Ministry, even though they'd worked together for six years and been partners for three. There'd always been some unspoken rule. Potter always went home to his doting wife and children. He never even came on the rare Fridays when the Aurors got together at the Leaky.

"What's up?" Draco raised his eyebrows and tried to read Potter's face, but his expression was indecipherable.

"Uh, nothing…. Just worn out after a hard week. That Rowle case was a disaster – I thought I was going to lose it when he disappeared at the ransom drop." Potter was leaning against the doorframe to Draco's office, his arms folded over his chest and his gaze fixed somewhere on the wall behind Draco's head.

"Yeah. I'm pretty tired too. I could use a pint or two, I suppose." Draco picked up the papers in front of him and stuffed them into his briefcase. "These can wait til Monday."

"Great. I'll just go lock up." Potter disappeared back into his own office. He emerged a few short minutes later in his coat and flicked his wand to fix the wards on his office. "Ready?"

Draco set his own wards, then followed Potter down the hall to the lifts. When they reached the foyer, Potter clutched his arm and Apparated them to the street outside the Leaky Cauldron. It was getting on for six and the street lights were aglow, highlighting the bustling of the traffic and pedestrians as they hurried toward their respective destinations. No one seemed to notice the sudden appearance of two wizards, however, thanks to the protective spells flanking the entrance to the wizard pub.

The door to the pub opened as a group of wizards exited, and Draco led Potter into the brightly-lit interior, which was already crowded and noisy with end-of-week revellers.

"We should do this more often," Potter said with a smile after downing his second pint. Draco following his example, feeling pleasantly buzzed. It was nice to relax with Harry like this. He was different away from the office – more vulnerable maybe, or at least open.

"Absolutely." Draco placed his glass on the table and motioned Tom for another round. "When was the last time you got wasted?"

Potter snorted. "God. Years." He shook his head as he took a sip from the new drink that had been placed in front of him. "Too busy with the kids and all." He looked away then, and Draco frowned. The worry lines had returned.

"Well, now's as good a time as any!" he replied in an attempt to lighten the mood. He raised his glass and Potter clinked his own glass against it. "What time do you have to be home?"

"Ginny and the kids are over at Fleur's for the evening, helping her with the new baby." Potter's eyes suddenly became shielded, his gaze flickering away again. "I've got plenty of time."

"Good. Maybe we should eat though. Fancy a meal? Or should we go somewhere else?"

But then Potter's phone was ringing. He stood as he pulled it from his pocket and motioned to Draco that he'd be right back, before disappearing out the back to answer it. It was barely a minute before he was back at the table and donning his coat.

"Sorry, Malfoy, I have to go." His look was apologetic, but it was mixed with something else – annoyance, Draco thought. Potter picked up his drink and drained it, then placed his hand on Draco's shoulder. It felt heavy and warm. "Thanks for having a drink with me. I, er… it was fun."

Draco nodded and tried to smile. "No problem. Let's do it again sometime."

"That'd be great." Potter pulled his hand away then. "See you Monday." He lingered for just a moment, and Draco thought he was about to say something else, but then he smiled and turned toward the door.

Draco stared at Potter's back as he opened the door and disappeared into the night.

***

It was three weeks later when Draco finally heard back about the potions secondment. They wanted to interview him and he was both excited and ambivalent.

"Your resume is impressive, Mr. Malfoy. I had no idea you'd completed your Master's Dissertation on the extant properties of Gillyweed. Very impressive, I must say. Tell me, how did you know that combining it with Fenugreek would create a healing effect on the lungs?" The Forensic Potions Manager, a middle aged man named Harold Parmenter, leaned forward in his chair and waited eagerly for Draco's response. Draco beamed at the attention, quite astonished that anyone – let alone his prospective boss – had read his thesis.

"Well, it was surprisingly simple, really. I discovered that Gillyweed and Fenugreek are both medicinal herbs from the same genus, and further investigation showed that the extant properties of Fenugreek actually complement those of the Gillyweed. I distilled a tincture for three days, which is the standard procedure, and discovered that the gas given off in the process acts like an anti-inflamatory." Draco leaned back and crossed his legs at the knee as he soaked up Parmenter's impressed look.

"Fascinating," Parmenter replied. "I'd love to talk to you sometime about incorporating that tincture into our Anti-suffocation Potion. Meanwhile, when can you start?"

Draco sat up in surprise. "I've got the job?"

"It's yours if you want it. We need someone to start as soon as possible, but two weeks at the latest. Our last Forensic Potions Master left quite suddenly due to personal problems, and the backlog is enormous I'm afraid."

"Thank you, sir. Can I get back to you on a start date?" Draco folded his resume and slipped it back into his briefcase. "I need to talk to my Head of Department about handing over my caseload."

"Of course, no problem," Parmenter was positively beaming by this stage. Draco himself felt aglow inside. It was wonderful to be wanted – to be needed – in a way that only he could offer. The two men said their goodbyes and Draco hurried back to his office. He had a meeting with Kingsley in five minutes, which would be a perfect opportunity for him to sort out the transitional arrangements.

When he got back to his office, however, he was surprised to find Potter's door shut. Potter never shut his door. It was the one thing he liked most about Potter – how open he was to everyone. Draco frowned. Through the glass wall, he could see Harry leaning on his elbows on the desk, his head in his hands. Draco considered knocking, but then decided that a shut door was a plea for privacy. He hoped nothing bad had happened.

Kingsley was early, so Draco didn't have time to process this new state of affairs. Two hours later, he emerged from his office with Kingsley and shook his hand.

"We'll be sorry to see you go, Malfoy, but of course I understand your decision. This is a great opportunity for someone with your background." Kingsley slapped him on the back, then turned to go. "Don't worry about the caseload. I'll sort it out with Potter."

"Sort what out with me?" Potter's door opened at that moment and he looked from Draco to Kingsley expectantly.

Kingsley raised his eyebrows at Draco. "I think I'll let Malfoy fill you in," he said before turning and walking back down the hall to his own office. Draco groaned silently.

"Tell me what, Draco?" Harry was frowning. "Sounds serious."

Draco bit his lip and looked down at his hands for a moment, picking at a nail. "I, er… I've been offered a position in the Forensic Potions Department. I start in two weeks." He raised his eyes to Potter, who looked confused.

"You're leaving?" Potter blinked several times as if trying to process the information. "Why? Don't you like working with me?"

Draco's gut clenched. "Of course I like working with you," he replied hastily. _Way too much_, he added to himself. "This is just something I've really been looking for – a chance to stretch myself. It's a challenge and I really need a challenge right now."

Potter's face fell and Draco nearly scooped him up, right then and there. "Oh, okay. Fair enough." Potter replied, then turned away. He must have thought better of his manners, however, because he swivelled back suddenly and forced a smile. "Congratulations, by the way. That's great news. Really!"

"Yeah, thanks." Draco's head swam with the effort of not reaching out.

"We'll have to organise celebratory drinks."

"Sounds good." Draco searched Potter's face. "I'll only be upstairs, you know. You can come and steal my Tim Tams whenever you want." His attempt at banter fell flat, however. Potter gave him a weak smile before turning back to his office.

"Is, er, everything all right, Harry?" Draco blinked in surprise at the sound of his own voice saying Potter's given name out loud.

Potter didn't seem to notice. He shrugged, his back still turned. "Yeah, I'm just a bit stressed," he said over his shoulder, turning back quickly to make his way back to his desk.

Draco frowned. Something wasn't right. This was not about Draco's new job. He followed Potter back into his office and leaned against the door-frame as Potter took his seat. "You want to talk about it?" he said, his voice almost cracking at the sight of Harry in distress.

"No, I'm fine." Harry tried to smile again. "Just the usual." Draco wasn't convinced though. Pushing the door shut, he sat down in the chair opposite Harry and searched his face again. If anything, the worry lines were deeper.

Suddenly, Harry's voice cracked. "She's leaving me, Draco."

"No." Draco felt it all break.

But Harry nodded miserably and dropped his head into his hands again. Draco didn't know what to do – then Harry's shoulders began to shake. Draco moved around the desk and knelt on the floor in front of him. "Harry. What happened? Does she really want more kids that much?"

Harry took a deep breath and looked up. "It's that, but there's other stuff as well."

"What stuff? What else could she possibly want, Harry?" Draco felt his face grow hot with anger on Harry's behalf. How selfish could the ginger-haired woman be? Did she have no regard for how Harry felt about things? Draco leaned forward and pulled Harry into a fierce hug. Harry slumped into him, as if resigned, and tucked his face into the crook of Draco's neck. They stayed like that for what seemed like ages, Harry letting Draco stroke his back in soothing motions. Finally, his breathing calmed somewhat and Draco pulled back to look him in the face. "You okay?"

Harry nodded, but his gaze remained directed at the floor.

"Come on, it's almost lunch. Let me shout you a pint at the Leaky. You look like you could use it." Draco stood and pulled Harry to his feet. "Just let me get my coat." Draco let Harry's hand fall from his, then turned to make his way to the door.

"Draco."

Draco turned at the sound of his name, his eyebrows raised. The look on Harry's face was devastating. Draco cursed Ginny in his head. Of all the people in the world who deserved to be put in their place, she had to choose the one person who was blameless. Did the woman have no heart? Draco stood and waited for Harry to speak.

But Harry's eyes dropped again. His face flushed and Draco frowned. "Harry?" He took several tentative steps toward Harry, then stopped. He felt the need to reach out and touch, to soothe, but he was afraid. How easy it would be to let Harry know how he really felt. But he couldn't allow it – self-preservation precluded it. His hand reached out involuntarily, but he pulled it back.

Suddenly, Harry reached out and clasped Draco's hand in his. He looked up and straight into Draco's eyes. Draco held his breath.

"It's… it's… I—uh…" Harry was looking at him earnestly. It took several more goes, but eventually Harry was vocal again. "It's you," he sighed and his eyes dropped again.

Draco's breath hitched. "W-what?" His voice was little more than a whisper.

Harry slowly looked up again and their eyes locked. "Ginny left me because of you."

"Me? What? Why?" Draco was more than a little confused. He searched Harry's eyes, trying to will some meaning into this incredibly confusing conversation. But then Harry was in his arms, his face just inches away.

"I… Draco," Harry began, then stopped, his face turning bright red. Draco blinked rapidly, not daring to hope.

"What is it? What happened?"

But then Harry was kissing him and it all made sense.

"You," Harry whispered after several long moments. "You happened. It took me awhile – a long while, actually – to figure it out. But I think – I mean, I'm pretty sure… that is," Harry coughed and went pink again. "I… love you, Draco. I have for a long time."

Draco's heart exploded into a million tiny fragments, and each sliver was etched with Harry's name. And then Harry was melting against him and they were kissing again. And Draco felt the world realign, and the shards of his shattered heart flew back together and became whole.

iFin/i


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: This was originally a one-shot but has turned into a chapter fic – with SMUT (coming in chapter 3, I promise) – especially for Quidditchbeater, who always leaves me the BEST reviews. Thanks, love. **

**When Worlds Collide**

**Chapter 2**

Harry's lips felt soft and warm and Draco melted into them, marvelling at the way Harry clung to him, almost as if he were trying to step inside Draco's skin. It felt surreal and all too distant, and yet at the same time completely raw and real. The feel of Harry's wet mouth, his sibilant tongue, his hard body aligning perfectly against Draco's as if it had been made for the purpose, was a miracle in the making. Draco almost didn't trust his own senses; it was surely a dream, induced by overwork or long-restrained lust gone mad, or the force of longing that had imprinted into to him over so many days and months and years until he had lost count. His eyes closed against the hard call of reality; he steeled himself to awaken and find that his mind had indeed been playing tricks, that his Harry was, in fact, still happily married and ensconced in the nuptial bliss that was his home with the Weaselette somewhere east of Ottery St Catchpole, the tribe of happy children playing merrily amongst the garden beds and Harry looking deeply into the eyes of his long-loved bride and the mother of his children. He squeezed his eyes tight as his senses were overwhelmed by the scent of Harry's skin melding with his own, the feel of faint stubble grazing his chin sending shivers across his cheek and down his neck, where the rest of his body seemed to join them in a staccato pulse of pure need and something else – something that tugged at his gut while at the same time causing it to churn and roil with desire.

Momentarily, the divine pressure of that warm mouth left his and a breath huffed against his lips, wet and hot, and his own mouth cried out silently to be consumed again by that moist heat. Draco felt a soft cry erupt from his throat as the perfect kiss was torn asunder and breath whooshed back into his lungs. The loss was keen, like his own heart had been ripped from him and he squeezed his eyes further in an attempt to shut out the reality of the certain rejection he was about to face at the hands of his surely Imperiused or Hexed or Polyjuiced partner. Soon he would open his eyes and some joker would be standing there in his arms, laughing with glee at Draco's tormented face as he observed the love of his life morph back into Seamus or Ron or Dean or any number of wizards only too willing to see Draco humiliated and laid bare, his torn heart lying in a bloody mess on the floor between them.

His lips turned cold, even as that hot breath huffed against them, and he savoured the last vestiges of moist warmth as he steeled himself to open his eyes and face what he knew would be certain humiliation or, at the very least, sharp disappointment. It was inevitable. He had been denied for so long that his mind had gone, had betrayed him, and now he needed to open his eyes and face the penalty before he sank even further into the dark depths of unrequited love that had all but torn him to pieces these six years past. It was almost too much to bear, and yet he knew it would be a relief to finally realise that he had gone too far, had finally succumbed to his own fantasy and must now awaken to the cold hard world of reality.

"Draco." The word was a breath against his lips, almost lost in the panting gasps that were emanating from his own mouth as he fought to bring air back to his lungs. He opened his eyes and blinked. He'd thought the world would have morphed into a grey mass to match the sodden lump that lay where his heart used to be, but as he blinked again, and again, slowly and with purpose, because he couldn't quite make sense of the sight before him, he realised that the universe was still spinning in a whirl of colour. Specifically, the sultry green hues of two brilliant, sparkling eyes as they bore into him, evident even through the barrier of glass that lay between them, and the shock of black hair that tickled his temples, and the lips, the very red lips that were but a hair's breadth from his own, full and plump with the heat of recent kisses, and he felt a little hope in his heart that he was not imagining it all.

"Draco." The sounds hummed through the air and circled his buzzing head before settling like honey in his ears. "Draco, I…" Coming to himself with a start, Draco realised that Harry was looking at him with concern in his eyes, eyebrows knitted in what almost looked like fear. "I… I'm sorry, I shouldn't just presume…" Harry's eyes dropped, his dark, lustrous lashes falling heavily against his cheeks, a sigh causing his chest to expand resignedly against Draco's own before it moved away and the chill air took its place. Draco shivered.

He blinked, and when his eyes finally focussed properly he saw that it was indeed Harry standing before him, and his mind exploded with the wonder of it all. But Harry was still frowning and Draco fought against the web of disbelief and fear in his own mind to make sense of what was really happening. Harry stepped back and his arms dropped.

"I'm so… sorry. I-I thought…" Harry turned away then and Draco's mind suddenly screamed to life. In one fell swoop the entire universe shifted and clicked back into place and Draco found himself pulled toward the brink of belief and then, with all the mental force he could muster, pushed himself over the edge. And found himself standing there staring at Harry's back as it shuddered and stiffened. His senses flooding back to him, he suddenly knew it was all okay, and he reached out.

"Harry."

"It's okay." Harry still wasn't looking at him. "I thought you – that is, I hoped…" Harry glanced back over his shoulder and his face was the cracked and broken perfection of longing and denial mixed with disappointment.

Draco's heart burst.

He didn't know when it happened, but in an instant he had pulled his Harry back into his arms and was showering his crinkled face with kisses, wet and sloppy kisses, mingled with the sobs of relief that struggled to erupt from his throat as he felt Harry collapse against him and wetness drench his collar. Moments later he had reached up and cupped that stubbled chin and lifted it to take those lips again, to claim them once and for all, and when Harry eagerly kissed him back, his heart sang.

"Harry… Harry… Harry…" he mumbled incoherently against those soft, red lips, and Harry was suddenly clinging to him again and devouring his mouth as if he had never been kissed before. Draco wanted so badly to reassure Harry that he broke off the kiss more than once to tell him so, but each time was compelled as if by magic to capture that wet mouth before he had the slightest chance to actually say what his mind was telling him needed to be said. After several attempts in as many minutes, he gave up, simply sliding his hands down and then up again under Harry's shirt to caress the warm, bare skin of his back.

The touch seemed to trigger something in Harry, causing him to moan and press himself against Draco in such a way that overwhelmed Draco's senses, until he thought that he would never have another coherent moment as long as he lived. As long as Harry was leaned into him this way with his mouth and his tongue reaching into the depths of Draco's very soul. It was pure, pure bliss. The feel of Harry's lean, hard body against his, their mouths aligned perfectly and their tongues duelling for dominance – it was everything Draco had ever fantasised about and yet never dared to wish for. Harry was his. _Harry_ was _his._

But then Harry was pulling back again, Draco's lips following the movement, not wanting to break the delicious kiss, to end the blissful and lusty melding of one body into another. Draco felt Harry's lips crease into a smile against his and reluctantly forced himself to stand back, barely able to remove his lips from the supple, spell-bound warmth he needed.

"Draco."

Draco blinked and forced himself to focus.

"Draco… I want you so much. Have for ages." Draco focussed enough to stare directly into the green orbs that were shining barely inches from his own.

"Oh, God." He breathed deeply, taking in the scent of the man before him and savouring it as if it were the nectar of the gods.

"I – I feel so stupid." Harry was shaking his head.

Draco opened his eyes and was instantly engulfed in the depths of Harry's concerned gaze.

"I – want you, want to be with you." Harry's eyes dropped in mortification. "I've never been with a man…" Harry's cheeks flushed prettily and Draco thought he would gladly have given a world of experience just to see that look on a daily basis – Harry, unabashedly wanting him, ineeding/i him and yet completely embarrassed by his lack of finesse. It was heady stuff – the stuff of dreams.

"I love you, Harry. God, I love you."

"Take me home with you." Harry nuzzled Draco's neck, mumbling into the crook of his shoulder in a way that made Draco feel like the King of the Universe and the World's Smooshiest Kitten, all at the same time.

"Yes." And it all really did make sense, in a time-shattering, alternate-universe kind of way.

"I want to fuck you so much." Harry's voice was raspy with need. Draco groaned and reached forward to clutch Harry close before Apparating them back to his flat.

TBC … (smut next chapter, I promise…)


End file.
